Every Tuesday I attend a class taught by a licenced and practicing psychologist. Topics range from depression to academic success, and our discussions are generally very thought-provoking and insightful.
A couple weeks ago, our topic regarded, in part, the challenges inherent in choice. Our teacher cited a study that was so interesting to me. Will you play along for a moment?
It was a home decor experiment on its face: participants were divided into two groups and given the chance to choose a poster or piece of artwork from a large selection. Members of Group 1 were asked to make their selection with the assurance that they could return and make exchanges at will. They could trade their picture at any time. Members of Group 2, however, were asked to make their choice with the understanding that their decision would be final. They could keep the art - no charge - but they could not trade.
After a time, participants in the study were surveyed to determine which individuals were more satisfied with their choices- the ones who could exchange or the ones who could not.
What would you guess?
Many members of our class were surprised to discover higher rates of satisfaction among participants who were not allowed to exchange their choice.
The reason?
Comparison.
The participants who were invited to trade their artwork at will were constantly comparing - constantly wondering if they couldn't find something a little better, while those who could not trade were content.
Fascinating, isn't it?
I've thought a lot about that concept in relation to relationships - about how our satisfaction and love truly increase when we commit and stop comparing.
I experienced that increase seven and a half years ago. On July 12, 2002, Wes asked me to marry him. Our engagement wasn't a surprise. We were in LOVE. We'd been talking about getting married for over a month. But something did surprise me: the feelings I had for Wes when I woke up on July 13th were not the same feelings I'd had through our courtship. The love I felt on the morning of July 13th was markedly different. It had increased exponentially. Overnight. I wrote in my journal something like: "It's amazing how much commitment increases love."
It is amazing. And real. But only when the commitment is real, and when we allow it to limit other options.
When Wes was a little boy he heard about a divorce in a friend's family at school and later brought up the subject with his parents. He has never forgotten their reassuring response: "Divorce is not an option for us." That was all he needed to hear. He hasn't worried about their marriage since.
He shared that impactful memory with me before we were engaged and I knew that I wanted my own marriage to be couched in that kind of commitment. (I'm not saying that divorce isn't sometimes necessary. But I don't believe it is often necessary.) Because isn't there power in that kind of commitment? The kind that says, "I choose you. For keeps. Forever." Isn't there power in the kind of commitment that ceases searching for a someone or a something that might be better? Isn't there power in the kind of commitment that gives all and not part?
We've found that there is power in that kind of commitment. Power and satisfaction, and security. That kind of commitment - devoid of comparison, full of contentment -is what makes marriage "more an exultant ecstasy than the human mind can conceive." (Spencer W. Kimball). And in this modern world of overwhelming options, we wish we could shout:
Don't be afraid to choose! Don't be afraid to commit! Don't be afraid to love.
Marriage is worth it.
Trust us.
A couple weeks ago, our topic regarded, in part, the challenges inherent in choice. Our teacher cited a study that was so interesting to me. Will you play along for a moment?
It was a home decor experiment on its face: participants were divided into two groups and given the chance to choose a poster or piece of artwork from a large selection. Members of Group 1 were asked to make their selection with the assurance that they could return and make exchanges at will. They could trade their picture at any time. Members of Group 2, however, were asked to make their choice with the understanding that their decision would be final. They could keep the art - no charge - but they could not trade.
After a time, participants in the study were surveyed to determine which individuals were more satisfied with their choices- the ones who could exchange or the ones who could not.
What would you guess?
Many members of our class were surprised to discover higher rates of satisfaction among participants who were not allowed to exchange their choice.
The reason?
Comparison.
The participants who were invited to trade their artwork at will were constantly comparing - constantly wondering if they couldn't find something a little better, while those who could not trade were content.
Fascinating, isn't it?
I've thought a lot about that concept in relation to relationships - about how our satisfaction and love truly increase when we commit and stop comparing.
I experienced that increase seven and a half years ago. On July 12, 2002, Wes asked me to marry him. Our engagement wasn't a surprise. We were in LOVE. We'd been talking about getting married for over a month. But something did surprise me: the feelings I had for Wes when I woke up on July 13th were not the same feelings I'd had through our courtship. The love I felt on the morning of July 13th was markedly different. It had increased exponentially. Overnight. I wrote in my journal something like: "It's amazing how much commitment increases love."
It is amazing. And real. But only when the commitment is real, and when we allow it to limit other options.
When Wes was a little boy he heard about a divorce in a friend's family at school and later brought up the subject with his parents. He has never forgotten their reassuring response: "Divorce is not an option for us." That was all he needed to hear. He hasn't worried about their marriage since.
He shared that impactful memory with me before we were engaged and I knew that I wanted my own marriage to be couched in that kind of commitment. (I'm not saying that divorce isn't sometimes necessary. But I don't believe it is often necessary.) Because isn't there power in that kind of commitment? The kind that says, "I choose you. For keeps. Forever." Isn't there power in the kind of commitment that ceases searching for a someone or a something that might be better? Isn't there power in the kind of commitment that gives all and not part?
We've found that there is power in that kind of commitment. Power and satisfaction, and security. That kind of commitment - devoid of comparison, full of contentment -is what makes marriage "more an exultant ecstasy than the human mind can conceive." (Spencer W. Kimball). And in this modern world of overwhelming options, we wish we could shout:
Don't be afraid to choose! Don't be afraid to commit! Don't be afraid to love.
Marriage is worth it.
Trust us.
